The Word of Your Body
by SlinkyT
Summary: What if you met somebody that could find out your deepest secrets, without you having to say a word?
1. No More Moves

AN: So, I could really be messing myself up by doing this, but I really felt the need to write this story before I lost the urge. And now I have twenty chapters planned out, and my other story has twenty chapters as well, so it's a lot to take on. I'm going to try my hardest to be an active Cherry writer, though, because I know some of us need that. :)

I have this new tumblr url: cherryforthesoul(dot)tumblr(dot)com

It's completely Cherry fanfiction, things I like. You can submit requests, or art, whatever you want. :)

Well, I hope you enjoy. The concept is from the show "Lie to Me" and the title is from the song "Totally F***ed" from Spring Awakening.

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><p>The restaurant was full and busy and pulsing, and with the clanking of silverware and dishes in his ear, all Mike Chang could do was watch. That's all he's done, for as long as he figured out that he could. Not only did he watch the people pass by him, hardly noticing as he sat with his back against the bar. Legally he wasn't supposed to be sitting at the bar, he was in high school, but he'd talked with the staff numerous times to explain his weekly visits and they decided one chair at the bar, with a soda on the counter, took up less customer space than an entire table with the same soda and senior boy.<p>

He would watch the customers, the staff, the people walking outside in the streets and it was all so intriguing. Ever since Mike had discovered this affinity for "reading people" as he liked to call it, it became easier to hone in on those specific things about the people he chose to observe. He did research and upon discovering micro expressions, he began noticing how is it was to catch them. To catch somebody in the middle of a lie. And that's what he would do here. He would watch, and attempt to establish stories for each person. It was his form of writing, except the words were inscribed on the inside of his skull. He would tend to forget who he had seen, or what significance there expression had held, but there was always somebody that stood out. Like tonight, his eyes had flickered over the happy couples, most with those fake smiles you see on teenagers, and others held more weathered smiles. Those were the ones he appreciated. He would see a split second of tired, and he could tell these people were exhausted, but then he would see genuine happiness. He could tell by the way they talked, by the way their hand held the person's across from them, and by the way their eyes cast downward when they'd received a compliment. It was comforting. And then his eyes landed on a girl, looking his age that he'd never seen before.

As a student of Dalton Academy his range of encounters was usually just the other guys at the school. He didn't go looking for girls like his peers did (or guys in some cases), but it was always refreshing to see feminine features once in a while. Especially that of somebody his own age. Or, he hoped was his own age. He shuffled in his seat as she looked around the restaurant and he could tell she was expecting somebody and had been for awhile if not by her glances, at least by her picking a book up out of her purse and cracking it open. One more simple and confirming gesture and he smiled, he only had once in a while to attempt to get a girl, why not now. He turned around on the barstool and crouched down the slightest bit to view himself in the shiny metal across the bar and to adjust his bright red tie that matched the piping on his navy blazer and pants. He rubbed his hands together, rolled his shoulders, his neck and pulled his jacket together as he stood. He walked to where he would approach her from the front, less intimidating, he'd come to learn. He leaned his head forward, eyebrows raised, showing interest when he spoke to her from across the table.

"Who are you waiting on?" He asked with concern and he could see the quick flash of interest in her own eyes, and across her features before she ducked her head low behind the book.

"I don't see why that's any of your concern." She spoke flatly, her eyes having the hardest time keeping from peeking over the tops of the pages.

"Ah, so you _are _waiting for somebody," he stated with a small smile. She lowered her book and looked at him questioningly. His suspicions were confirmed with her avoiding the question altogether.

"Actually, no, I'm not." She replied and had it not been for the small shrug of her shoulder as she said that, he probably would have believed her. It was a motion that was subconscious and she probably just saw it as adjusting in her seat, but he didn't. He laughed softly and carefully pulled the chair out across from her, to which she showed no objection as he sat down.

"Now, let me get this straight," he said, looking at the cover of her book that was hiding her eyes. "You show up to a restaurant, at a table for two, look around, pull out a book, impatiently tap your finger on the cover and then attempt to tell me my accusations are false. You really should get better at this." He stated. Now, Rachel wasn't sure why she couldn't talking to the stranger, but something about him was endearing. Maybe it was the way his eyes stayed focused on the features of her face, or the way his arms fit nicely into the sleeves of his uniform. Either way, though she didn't know his name, it was better than sitting alone or huffing about it and going home.

"Get better at what, exactly?" She said, face hidden, and he wished she didn't do that because that made it a little more difficult than necessary.

"Lying." He said bluntly and that seemed to catch her attention, because her book snapped shut and she glared forward, eyebrows furrowed and lips in a tight line. "Anger, seen that one before," he said casually.

"I'll have you know I was not-" She started but was cut off.

"What? Not reading a Sarah Dessen book to forget you had a date tonight?" She crossed her arms across her chest and his grin just widened, because she was just making it easier for him.

"Defensive, are we?" He asked and then before she could speak he retorted. "Now, before you ask me who I am, or you reject me completely for being an obnoxious douche, let me take a whack at it, okay?" He saw the slight nod, to which he took as a yes, though she might not have even realized she did it.

"Now, you have already confirmed you were waiting for somebody." She opened her mouth to speak and cut her off once more. "No, trust me, you did. Now, it's just a matter of who." He leaned forward on the table and looked at the things placed on the table as well as her attire. "Well, you're dressed nice, meaning you're here to impress. Was it a blind date?" He asked and immediately he saw the universally recognizable expression of disgust. Nose scrunched, brow furrowed, and he knew that answer without her having to speak a word. He could tell the idea of blind dating wasn't something she enjoyed at all, and he found comfort in that.

"Miss." He recorded that and her eyebrows shot up, her eyes widened, and her jaw dropped the slightest bit in surprise for a mere fifth of a second and he chuckled under his breath once more. "What about a girlfriend?" He asked to which she replied.

"Yeah," she said with feigned disappointment that he recognized immediately. "It was a girl's night and she just didn't show." She stated with a small smile that didn't reach the corner of her eyes, maybe to show she wasn't holding anger over it, and her head shook the slightest bit from left to right.

"Wrong again," he retorted. "Had I had you on mute, you would have been deliberately saying no," he smiled and then nodded, coming to a realization, after putting the pieces together of the whole person it could be. "So, it's your boyfriend, then?" He asked and he face dropped, eyes look down and away. Bingo.

"Isn't that kind of a rude thing to do? Stand up your own girlfriend?" He asked, looking for the truth in her face, in her features that had softened since she had nothing to hide in that regard.

"Isn't it kind of rude for you to be invading somebody else's business?" She snapped and pulled the book off the table and pushed it into her bag.

"It's a hobby of mine." He said as if it made the most sense in the world, because to him it did. "And I apologize if I've done anything to offend you. Or, if I was wrong in any of my accusations."

"Well," she paused and looked up to him, meeting those highly observant eyes that there was just something…different about. "You weren't wrong. I just…how did you know?"

"You told me, of course," he said with a warm smile, and he could tell by the way that she leaned forward in her chair, she was genuinely interested.

"I didn't say anything, but…you knew I wasn't telling the truth. What, did you talk to somebody before you came up to me? The host? Because I told him that I was expecting somebody to join me." She said, giving a completely logical explanation to how he knew, but it wasn't the right one.

"You. Told. Me." He repeated slowly with a sly smile. "Maybe not with your lips. But with your hands, your eyes, your entire body," he said and her face looked alarmed, like he'd been checking her out the whole time. "No, no, not in a weird way." He sighed in frustration. "Your body language." He clarified, though there wasn't much to complain about in the other area. Her eyebrows furrowed, as she tried to understand, and there was a quick flutter of her eyelashes, an action done when remembering something and he spoke up once more. "What? What was that? What just crossed your mind?" He asked and she looked up at him once more, confused as to how he knew she was contemplating anything at all.

"I'm an actress. Convincing people that I'm something I'm not is what I'm good at. I'm in all the plays at McKinley, my high school, but how is it that…it just doesn't make any sense. There's no way you should have known those things." She said, trying to justify and give some reasoning to the situation.

"Well, to me, your just like every other card in the deck. Your acting skills don't help your subconscious." He noted. "And I can read your face, just like everybody else's." She rolled her eyes, but smiled widely, catching the play on words.

"Clever."

"You sure think so," he stated, eyes watching the muscles in her face form her delicate smile in a way that didn't necessarily seem like everybody else's.

"So," And she paused. She had full intention to address him by his name, then ask why he'd sat down across from her in the first place, before realizing names hadn't been exchanged. "Um, I didn't catch your name?"

"Mike Chang. I go to Dalton Academy. And you?"

"Oh, you don't already know?" She asked coyly to which he shook his head.

"No, I'm not a mind reader, just a face reader." They both now wore wide smiles, ones that he knew were true and it eased his loneliness if only for the fraction of a second it took her to flash her next micro expression.

"Quinn Fabray," she stated with a sureness that he was positive she thought would convince him. Her posture had straightened, animal print sweater stretching across her chest in a slightly altered way, which he couldn't help but notice, and she had lifted her hand and rotated it just the slightest bit, indicating an unsure tone not otherwise shown.

"Not buying it," he stated with a grin and her shoulders slumped and she let out a heavy sigh, wishing she would have got him.

"Fine. Rachel Berry. And as I have already said, I go to McKinley." At this statement there was no indication of a lie.

"Wait, William McKinley? In Lima?" He asked and she nodded, confused as to why it mattered.

"So, you know Kurt Hummel, Blaine's boyfriend, then?" He asked with a new enthusiasm to which Rachel was surprised to hear from a teenager that had seem so solidified in his emotions.

"Yeah, I do." She confirmed.

"Small world," he said simply reply, catching her eye for a short moment.

"Guess so."


	2. I Don't Do Sadness

A/N: Hello, all! I'm trying to keep it short, so you guys don't get bored by my long posts. The title is from the song "Don't Do Sadness" from Spring Awakening. The only other thing I want to do is direct you, once again, to my Cherry tumblr (cherryforthesoul(dot)tumblr(dot)com) where you can submit any requests you want to see, or ideas or comments. Anything, really. :)

As always, please review with any grammatical corrections for me, as that always helps and I love seeing what you guys think of what I write. :)

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><p>Mike Chang was a teenager of habit. His patterns weren't usually interrupted, and were only disturbed should he, say, talk to a new intriguing girl at his usual restaurant. One night was plenty of disturbance for him. Should there be more than one consecutively, people who came regularly, such as the elderly couple that always sat in the corner, would start noticing him. Complaints would be filed, and he wouldn't be able to continue his hobby at that location. Which, if he was being honest, wasn't a terrible idea, but he had grown to love the small restaurant and its customers with varying levels of deception.<p>

Unlike the other weeks he'd sat on this stool, a person stood out in his mind. A person he'd met a week before and who's features had kept a place in his thoughts. It really had been the first person he blatantly called out on their lying. Sure, he'd seen things and off handedly commented on them, but directly asking somebody about their lie wasn't usually his tactic. He questioned his intentions in doing so. Was it to call attention to the fact that her boyfriend was a jerk? Or show off? It still confused him, but, sitting on the stool this evening he didn't have much time to dwell, as moments into his casual residing, she entered the restaurant.

And it seemed like he recalled the features of Rachel's face with ease. The way the corner of her mouth twitched up just the slightest bit in a smile when the host asked how many and she replied by simply holding up a finger. His eyes followed her across the room, to where she was seated in a booth.

One of Mike's other talents, along with his dancing, was not being seen. So, when her eyes scanned the room, hands in front of her on the table, he went unspotted. Her head dropped the slightest bit and there was a continuous look of disappointment, and then the slight micro second of regret that he saw. She was there looking for somebody. Who? He wasn't sure. In the corner of his mind, before he even got up to cross to her table, he believed it was him that she was looking for, because he eyes stayed in the direction from which he'd approached her table a week prior. Which, sadly, wasn't the place he was now.

He reminded himself to stop examining so much.

He once again pushed his tie up as he walked to her, and it fit snugly around his neck. He double checked the fold of his lapels before reaching the edge of the table. Mike cleared his throat properly and she looked up, eyes widening the slightest bit and jaw dropping a fraction that was unnoticeable to the untrained eye, an expression he'd seen on her face before. He smiled and it was almost infectious, because just a second later she was smiling, the corners of her eyes crinkling.

"Well, how did I know you were going to be here?" She said with a playful lilt on her words and he shook his head, taking a seat across from without a second thought.

"See, that's the thing, you didn't." He commented and Rachel rolled her eyes, arms crossing on the table as she leaned forward. He could tell by the way her eyebrows arched up and her head tilted to the side that she was genuinely interested.

"You showed surprise when I walked up. One of the easiest expressions to spot." Mike stated and she was already shaking her head before his statement finished.

"I was not surprised." She challenged and little did she know her own body was betraying her with a combination of excessive eye contact and the manipulator of her nails just slightly running along her skin.

He'd never seen her do that action before, which just confirmed his suspicions because it strayed from the baseline of actions he'd established in their last encounter. A manipulator is simply an action, such as scratching your neck or nose, popping joints, touching you ear, scratching really any skin, or small nervous ticks that show deception.

"And now you're lying again." Rachel sighed heavily and leaned back, them falling into a silence. Her eyes narrowed and she just looked at him, simply looking at his features, wondering what it was about her own that betrayed her so easily. She couldn't help it if she also noticed the way his hair slicked back just right and his broad shoulders stayed confidently upright under her gaze. There was an unspoken confidence about Mike, the way he held himself in the proper attire was attractive and she wondered if that was one of his body language things he picked up.

"How do you do it?" She asked simply and kept her eyes trained on his. He broke the eye contact and looked off to the side, trying to formulate a response.

"It's hard to explain," he said and met her eyes once more and she focused in on him.

"You're lying," she accused confidently and he grinned and before he could ask why she assumed that, she promptly explained. "You looked off to the side. You look away when you're lying." She said with her face now holding a proud grin. Mike shook his head the slightest bit, looking at her warily.

"Myth," he stated to which Rachel's face dropped. "You actually look away when you're telling the truth. Your subconscious has orientations for which direction you look according to what you're trying to recall. You make more eye contact when lying to make sure the person you're trying to fool is actually believing you."

Under the table Mike extended his longer legs forward and bumped her's just the slightest bit, her head dropped and her eyes fell to the tabletop in embarrassment. He tried to hold back a smirk, because right now was not the time to be engaging in something like that. Especially since he'd only talked to her twice.

"Well, umm," he could tell she was trying to regain her thought process and she tucked her hair behind her ear nervously before looking up at him. "Prove it."

"Okay," he confirmed and then nodded towards her to start. "Tell me about something. Anything. Your boyfriend." He decided. As much as he didn't want to talk about Rachel's boyfriend, it was something that she could probably talk about for hours, she was a teenage girl after all.

She began talking and he began marking things in his head that she was saying that were dishonest.

"Oh, um, his name is Finn Hudson, he's in the Glee club. I'm sure you've heard of him. He's Kurt's step brother." Mike nodded, recognizing the name. So far her words were honest. "He can sing really well, and he's about two of me stacked on top of each other." She said and forced a laugh out. He cocked his head to the side, and shook his head.

"No, no, tell me about his personality. Opinions not facts."

"Right, of course," she said and looked down at the table, trying to decided where to start. "He's not very bright, but he tries. And," right here was where Mike became uneasy. Her hand lifted to her ear, rubbing for a short moment and her voice wasn't sure, she was speaking slower as if she were thinking hard to come up with things about him. Mike leaned back away from her anticipating what lie was about to come out of her mouth. "I really love him. He's a great, caring guy." Mike felt as if he'd peeked in on her innermost thoughts, and shouldn't be knowing this about her feelings that had changed about her boyfriend. She licked her lips, nervous once more and her words came out after a pause. It seemed like her subconscious was on overload, practically shouting at Mike that she secretly hated her boyfriend. Maybe not hated, but didn't care about anymore.

"He's really sweet, and thoughtful." And he stopped looking at her altogether at that point, not wanting to see and learn more than he already had. Rachel paused and leaned over, trying to catch his eyes.

"What is it?" She asked with concern.

"Oh, nothing, nothing. I just thought I was going to sneeze," he said, putting on a smile and catching his own manipulator of adjusting his watch on his wrist when it needed no adjustment. She laughed softly. "Continue," he gestured for her with a warm smile and he saw the first hint of truth.

She laughed under her breath, like remembering an inside joke, and nodded her head. There was no shrug, no manipulator, no hesitation, no hint of a lie in any way as she spoke.

"He's the best thing that's ever happened to me." And he froze. Piecing it together, it seemed as though her boyfriend's traits weren't all that admirable, but she still believed that he was the best thing that happened to her. And that confused him. What could possibly cause her to think a guy, with traits that didn't appeal to her, at least not from Mike's observant point of view, was the best that she could do for herself? His eyes narrowed and she spoke, her voice softer and almost knowing that he was going to out her on her lies.

"So, what did you see?" He didn't know what to do. Going into this he was determined not to lie to her. But he also wasn't going to accuse of her leading on a guy, or put Rachel down for her fibs that probably should have been put at the forefront of her mind. That wasn't what this was about. He hesitated only slightly, wetting his lips in preparation.

Because she was different. Something was….different.

"I saw a girl who…" Who what? What. What. What. "Genuinely appreciates her boyfriend and is grateful to have him." Had she had any idea of people's ways with words, she would have noticed his evasion. No specific detail, no context. Nothing attaching him to the things she'd said.

He then noticed a flash of sadness. The corners of Rachel's lips turned down, and her eyes lost focus for half a second. If that.

And then forced happiness replaced it, but he wasn't going to chide her on that. Because there was something there he didn't know. And he didn't need to know whatever that was to know he should be a sensitive person.

"You're good," she complimented.

"I try." He replied and went on. "And practice." Mike added on pointedly. The topic of the conversation shifted and he could see the relief on her gentle features.

"Oh, really. On who?"

"People at Dalton. My friends Puck, and Sam. I'm kind of teaching them simple things. Puck is a hell of a bad liar, though. I don't think he'll ever get better." He said and then laughed, glad to be taking the conversation elsewhere.

"I feel like normal people would see that as a good thing," she said in a teasing manner, her tone almost saying that she already knew what he was going to reply when she spoke this statement.

"Are you saying I'm not normal?" He said with fake shock, a hand going to his chest to reinforce the act and grinned, knowing he was far from what anybody would call average due to the talent she had the pleasure of discovering right away. She just laughed and he joined her, not being able to help it. The laughs faded and her smile dropped, lips pressing into a tight line in thought.

"Thank you," she stated simply.

"For…what? I didn't do anything."

"For…keeping me company last Friday. I thought I was going to have to sit alone again. That's why I came back…to tell you." She stated and if he hadn't been for his awareness, he probably wouldn't have noticed the toe of her shoe hitting the side of his own foot. The contact showed wanted for connection but the fact that her foot was turned in his direction at all showed general interest, maybe indicating her intentions were past just saying thanks. He was unsure of what to say, and all that spilled past his lips was facts.

"You know, there's not a universal expression for loneliness." There was hardly emotion in his words, and what did seep through was almost a comforting tone. One that was encouraging her to say what it was that she needed to because the word again in itself left an unsettled feeling in his stomach. She looked at him, eyebrows furrowed in focus and she spoke with a gentle nature.

"I think it would be easier if there was." 


	3. Just Give it Time, Kid

AN: Okay, well, here's the next chapter, which, in writing it, I feel got a bit confusing. So, I hope you can keep up! I really wish I could read my stories out loud to you because it would be so much better. :)

Anyway! This chapter's title is from the song "B**** of Living" from Spring Awakening. And, as always check out my Cherry oriented tumblr at .com and review with grammar corrections, ideas, complaints, and suggestions. :)

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><p>Mike wasn't the <em>best<em> singer, but he was an active one and a great contribution to the chorographical aspect of a performance. His admission to Dalton's glee club, the Warblers, was simply out of the fact that they needed that extra…something, and he had it. They were sure it was just the dancing, and he got teased about his singing all the time (though he was improving). Nobody had thought to stray from the traditional steps, but he was always pushing. Not to mention the fact if they lied and said they didn't like the new ideas, when they really did, he would catch them in the act. So, they tended no to do that often. At least, not anymore.

Rehearsal had just ended, the group of a few boys exiting the choir room, a chorus of laughter and Mike instinctively catching the fakes in his ears and with his eyes without even trying. A few boys filtered out leaving Sam and Puck with him, Blaine following behind having just caught the tail end of the conversation and not the actual topic. Sam nudged Mike's shoulder as he talked about his latest Friday night endeavor. He didn't tell them about the lie, that wasn't their business. Mike just rolled his eyes, glad neither of them were as good at reading people as he was.

Puck pushed him with a cheeky smile and they rounded a corner with laughter, now facing the front entrance of the building. Mike looked to the doors and his heart turned, protected by his ribcage to keep from spilling out on to the tile that reflected the fluorescent lights above them. They had turned tight at the corner and were hugging the wall closely when Mike stopped, causing all of his friends to look at him questioningly. Standing at the front was the petite topic of conversation, curls laying over her shoulders and her sinfully short skirt just grazing her thighs. His eyes hesitated and Sam, reader in training, did catch that much.

"Hey, what are you-?" Sam started and then stopped short as he saw the girl at the end of the hall. He looked between his frozen friend and her and his lips twitched up into a smirk. Blaine looked around Sam to Mike, trying to decipher the same thing.

"What, what is it?" He asked and Sam pushed Mike on the shoulder, encouraging him to go forward.

"Stop," he snapped back harshly. Sam held back a laugh and Puck did the same actions his blonde friend had moments earlier, his eyes widening in understanding.

"It's her," he stated with a smirk that mimicked Sam's. Sam nodded in confirmation and Blaine's brow furrowed in confusion as he recognized Rachel.

"Wait _that's _her? But-but I know her. How are you sure?" He piped up and Sam gestured to Mike's face.

"Well, he told us, of course." He said, coining one of Mike's phrases. "When he first saw her he smiled a bit, he stood up straighter to impress her. His hands aren't pushed into his pockets, which is a bad sign for our friend here. It means anxiety." He continued, proud that his friend hadn't stopped him for false observations yet. "Oh, and then there's his eyes. They are-" At that moment Mike reached over and smacked him square on the chest, causing him to stop short and let out a burst of air in surprise. Mike gave him a stern look.

"Don't you say it," he warned, knowing the evaluation his friend caught and it was one that frustrated Mike the most because it was a characteristic Mike could never learn to control.

"Then go talk to her," Sam said and pushed him forward once more. Mike, being the nervous wreck he now was, stumbled and bumped the table that was pressed tight against the wall, causing the vase on it to sway before crashing to the ground into a hundred pieces. All of the boys paused now, and Rachel turned to look down the hall simply to acquire the source of the noise and he could see the recognition cross her face. She turned to the administrator something or other that she was talking to and, from his view, fake thanked her and then turned on her heel to head in their direction. She looked down the hall past the girl who just walked away to the mess and Sam raised his hand.

"It was me. My parents got it covered," he assured her nonchalantly and she gave a scolding glare before retreating back to the office. Rachel was still continuing to walk with a determined stature and Mike noticed the way Puck's eyes dropped to that swish of her skirt before his lips pursed to make a cat call. Mike also noticed Rachel's reaction to that, though she still continued forward and flashed a smile in Blaine's direction, having recognized him as well. Her expression then dropped once more. Blaine started whispering hype to Sam about Rachel's rocky relationship with Finn (which he only had knowledge of because of Kurt), who, in turn whispered across Mike to Puck and their excitement seemed to rise more than Mike's as she was nearing the end of the long stretch of hallway. The only real sound being the small tap of her heels on the floor.

Mike was hit on the back and he staggered a step forward once more (he assumed another from Sam this time as Blaine now refused to take a turn because of this new knowledge of the identity of the girl).This time he missed the table and pile of shards. He didn't know why she was here, he just…didn't know. A couple other catcalls were made teasingly and Blaine tried his hardest to stay out of it, because the last he knew Rachel Berry was a taken girl and he didn't want in that mix.

She finally stood feet away and her arms crossed over her chest. Puck pulled on Sam's sleeve, getting him to retreat down the hall with Blaine still following along. This left Mike and Rachel face to face, alone, and suddenly he felt nervous in a way he wasn't used to. The flurry of talk around him dissolved, the exchanges narrowed to just her and just him.

"That was Sam and Puck," he stated and pointed towards them, reminding her of the conversation from days ago, but her expression stayed flat, not really caring.

"You lied to me."

And if she didn't believe it was the truth than he had lost his ability to read people.

The thing about lying is that if you believe with all your heart something is true and nothing in your own knowledge refutes that truth (or in actuality the lie) then your body and your instincts won't show you as lying. Your pulse won't elevate, your hand will not twitch, your manipulators will not show and it's not because you're an expert liar. It's just that the truth you learned is a lie to everybody else.

Like Santa. Children believe that Santa is real and if you ask a child their answer would be as sure as if you were asking them their last name. It's not that they can easily lie, it's just that Santa being a living, breathing human is their truth.

And her truth was that Mike was a liar. Her entire body proved that and instead of defending himself, as he should, he spewed facts.

"The average person lies 3 times per ten minutes of conversation," he stated, it holding nothing of its own and not meaning anything significant, just hanging in the dense air.

"Silly me, for some reason I though you weren't the average person," she replied dryly and he couldn't help but smirk a bit confidently at, what he assumed was, a compliment.

"Really?" He asked and shrugged modestly, adjusting his tie. His confidence must have seeped into his voice as she looked up in frustration. Or, wait. Was that confusion? Or disgust? He couldn't tell as when her head lifted those warm brown eyes stared right into to his dark ones that seemed flat in comparison. It distracted him from her tells for just a moment before he broke the contact and his eyes met the hem of her skirt before dropping lower again, regretting having asked in such a way.

"Yeah, I mean, because of your…thing." He almost wanted to snicker, if not for himself then for Puck and Sam, (he was always more immature around them) but he let her continue. "Your reading people thing. I thought you, of all people, would know what lying does to people." Her hair fell past her shoulders as her head tipped down, eyes dropping as well and he sighed heavily, his hands fumbling with the lapel on his blazer. "You said I was happy and that…that I loved him." She didn't even have to identify him, her flat tone and the way it somehow still had a lilt of disgust helped him label easy enough. He shook his head.

"I never said that," he denied and walked past her, hands pushing into his pockets smoothly, not to hide something, just as that was one of his baseline habits. Her face screwed up in confusion and she turned, catching his arm with the palm of her hand, fingers curling tightly to his uniform and though he could have easily pulled out of her grip, he didn't.

Because she was _touching_ him. Her hand didn't move and the air was still.

"What are you talking about?" She said almost angrily and he turned to her. At that her hand dropped. No, dropped isn't the correct word. It slid down his clothed arm, fingers trailing from shoulder to wrist before letting go, his arm shooting with a warmth and he wished his hand was no longer in his pocket so her fingers could have brushed his bare skin if only for a moment. It caused him to hesitate for a fraction of a second, recovering without a stutter.

"I didn't lie, I withheld the truth," he replied and she crossed her arms.

"Isn't that the same thing?"

"Nope," he said almost before she finished the sentence. It was a question he got often and always explained. "Come on, I have to head to my dorm, it's this way." He nodded in the direction he was headed and this time she followed instead of stopping him. She was walking right next to him, her arm centimeters from brushing against his own and he wondered what was actually keeping him from reaching out and grabbing her hand. She looked over at him, eyebrows raised in questioning and he didn't even have to ask to know that she really wanted him to elaborate.

"Okay, by definition the truth is something factual or the thing that corresponds to fact or reality ." He shrugged, having rambled off that definition many times before. "By definition," he said, keeping it strictly away from his own opinion. "To lie is to deliberately say something untrue or to say something that is not true in a conscious effort to deceive somebody."

Her words were spat out and rough, like it was hard for her to say.

"You said I loved him." He stopped and so did she, standing shoulder to shoulder with him in a still empty hall. He knew he would never say that and in his mind the night reeled through, him viewing her tell once more. He'd read it right, he knew he had. She didn't love him. At least not anymore.

"I didn't." He told her once more. _I wouldn't. _"I said that you appreciated him. Which you can't deny. And that you were grateful. That's all." He stated, not looking over at her and she did a small pivot, now standing in front of him. "I couldn't…"

"Tell me the truth?" She asked bitterly and he shook his head, looking at her again.

"I did. It's not my place to say something about who loves who. What I did was…not tell you everything." He eyed her carefully, watching her tuck her hair behind her ear almost nervously as their distance was closer than ever allowable at a table in a restaurant. "It's called omission. I kept out the parts…that weren't mine to know."

"I needed you to tell me the truth. I needed somebody to remind me that what I was saying was crap. I needed the confirmation to make sure that I wasn't crazy. To make sure that I really didn't….feel the way I'd told myself I should feel." He stayed silent and nodded.

"That makes sense. But I guess you didn't really, did you?" He asked and she smiled, the corners of her lips turning up. He noticed at this moment how the neckline of her shirt was lower than the others she'd worn. How she held herself a little taller and he almost grinned. "You broke up with that jerk, didn't you?" She broke into a smile, her shoulders feeling a little lighter.

"Yeah, I did." She confirmed.

"Say it again." He said simply and her expression changed to confused, then to recognition, relief and finally approval.

"I love him," she said with a smile and even if she'd been trying she wouldn't be able to stop all the signs that showed him she was lying. She had shifted her weight, her shoulders and hand shrugged and she was looking at him straight, waiting to see his reading. His smile didn't falter.

"And you're lying." He said and she laughed softly, him joining her before it dissipated and she suddenly reached forward to hug him. Immediately his arms lifted and her's went around his waist. Contact wasn't Mike's thing. His eyes widened and he looked down at her for a moment before realizing she wasn't going anywhere. His hands hesitantly dropped to her shoulders and he hugged her back for a short moment.

"Thank you." She murmured and he felt her shifting, her hands patting down the jacket of his uniform as she pulled back and she smiled, taking a step back and putting space between them.

"Anytime, really. If you…need anything you could give me a call," he suggested and pulled his phone out of his pants pocket and unlocking it. "You could just…put your number in." He suggested and held it out. He might have seemed like a lady's man during the time before asking a girl out, or asking for her number, or hugging her, but when it actually came to it, he was a wreck. Especially when he'd seen multiple signs that she might actually want to spend time with him.

"No." She replied flatly. Just kidding.

"Well, you could write it down or something then? I'm sure I have a pen." He said pushing his phone back into his pocket and patting his person for a pen, planning to suggest his hand if she needed something to write on.

"No." She repeated and this time he caught a smile small on her lips and a mischievous glint in her eyes. He smiled a bit himself and looked at her curiously. She shook her head and then turned to walk back where they came from, planning on leaving now that she'd got what she came for. She walked down the hall a bit and he called after her.

"Please?" He said and she looked over her shoulder, a wide smirk on her face and then she faced forward, calling back to him as she continued her retreat.

"Check your pocket!" She called back and then rounded a corner, the small patter of her shoes the only thing he could hear that was left. His brow furrowed in confusion and he dug into his pants pocket, finding nothing, before doing the same with his jacket pocket and feeling a small scrap of paper in his left hand. It was light enough that he would have never felt it there unless he had been told to check.

He pulled it out and unfoldeded it and laughed, recalling the way that she'd hugged tight to him and how he hadn't felt her hands on his back. He played over how she pat down his jacket, ensuring that the paper was tucked into his pocket securely.

On the small paper a series of numbers was scrawled.

Followed by a gold star.


End file.
